Four Oh Two
by lilien passe
Summary: Ludwig is suffering from a bout of insomnia. Unfortunately for him, so is Gilbert. Warning: Contains a version of a beloved fairytale that would make the original author cringe. Also sap. Way too much sap.


-Author's Notes-

This is a request fic written for Kivaember over at the MeinBruder Livejournal community. It pales in comparison to her stuff, of course…

Also you should be warned that this contains quite possibly illegal amounts of sap. Caution is warranted.

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_Four Oh Two_

_---_

Ludwig sat up and punched his pillow for the thousandth time that night, cursing under his breath. Next to him, the lump that was Gilbert stirred slightly, and Ludwig heard his brother sigh into the humid summer air.

"Really, West? At three in the fuckin' mornin'?" the older man droned wearily. "It's just a trifle too hot to put up with this shit without goin' completely off the deep end…"

Ludwig felt his face flush, and he lay back down on the bed. "I didn't think you were awake," he said softly by way of apology. "Lord knows you sleep like a brick. Last time it took a session of electric shock therapy and a legion of thumb screws before you even budged."

"Can't _believe_ you tried to use those, even as a joke," Gilbert muttered, twisting to lie on his side. "You don't see me usin' your stuff without askin'."

"They're ancient and decrepit," Ludwig said dryly, "And to be honest more than a little disturbing."

"They're history. They're mine," Gilbert droned, his eyebrow twitching slightly. "And if they're disturbin' then so am I."

"Fine. You're disturbing." Ludwig sat up again and cracked his neck from side to side, kicking the covers away. "This is not news, Gilbert. Most people sort of take it as a given. Now let's just… go back to bed."

The two lay in silence for a moment before Gilbert said slyly, "Can't sleep, huh?"

"Not a wink," Ludwig groaned, massaging his temples. "And it's been like this for weeks."

"Oh believe me. I know," Gilbert deadpanned. "Kinda hard to miss when you're sharin' a bed with a spontaneous insomniac."

Ludwig rolled over to glower at his brother in the dim moonlight that filtered through their bedroom window. "Like you're one to talk. I've caught you drinking coffee and talking to inanimate objects at four in the morning. Explain that."

"The toaster oven and I happen to have a deep and meaningful connection," Gilbert said loftily, "One that your narrow minded self couldn't possibly hope to comprehend."

Ludwig groaned. "I hate you. Now I have to sterilize the kitchen all over again. Who knows what other appliances you've seduced with your brazen wiles."

"Can I help it that my animal magnetism is so overwhelming?" Gilbert drawled, running one hand up his bare chest and leering at Ludwig from across the bed. "This is the stuff that legends are made of, West. Don't knock it till you've… well," he smirked, "Guess it's a little late for that."

Ludwig snorted. "So I should probably be calling you Helen of Troy, then. I can get Brad Pitt on speed-dial in a matter of minutes."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "You think that guy is up to my standards? The 'I want you to hit me as hard as you can' guy?"

"Don't tempt me," Ludwig muttered, and Gilbert laughed, the sound echoing strangely in the still night air.

Ludwig glanced at the clock and gave a small moan of despair when the face displayed a two, a four and an eight in a bright neon green. "I am going to be dead for tomorrow's meeting," he groaned piteously. "I'm already in trouble enough as it is after you called Turkey's guest representative a vapid bimbo. Sadiq is going to strangle me if I sleep through tomorrow's proceedings."

"Hey! She was clearly tryin' to have her wicked Turkish way with me!" Gilbert protested, "And obviously she was a little lackin' in the I.Q. department. I mean, come on. Who the fuck carries around little dogs in their purses to a summit meetin'? I bet she's pretty bendy though," he added with a thoughtful look. "Maybe I missed out after all…"

"You shoved her into a cart of food," Ludwig droned listlessly. "Any residual longing she might have felt for your pasty self was probably crushed along with that bowl of caviar. And she's a girl. You shoved a poor helpless girl into trays of fish eggs with reckless abandon."

"Sexist much?" Gilbert sneered, jabbing his finger into Ludwig's forehead. "Elizaveta's a chick. You never get your panties in a bunch when I try and shove her into random waiters."

"That's because exactly one hundred percent of the time she immediately gets up and defenestrates you in a way that should make you fear for your masculinity," Ludwig said gravely.

"That was _one time_, West!" Gilbert snapped, picking up a pillow and thwacking his brother's head with it. "And yet for some reason you keep findin' an excuse to bring it up again!"

Ludwig rubbed the offended spot ruefully. "That's because it was hilarious, even after I started worrying about potential injuries. You looked so utterly surprised when you went out that window. I think Roderich has it on film, even."

"Bet he plays it every time he and that crazed tomboy get it on," Gilbert muttered, retrieving his pillow before Ludwig could muster a counter attack. "Probably the only way he can get it up is by seein' my one and only moment of weakness."

The clock read three zero four. If it weren't for the crippling inability to move brought on by lack of sleep and stifling humidity, Ludwig would have picked the damn thing up and smashed it into Gilbert's face. He might have trouble getting up without the alarm, but it seemed a small price to pay.

He heard his brother shift restlessly as the pale man kicked away the thin sheet that covered them both. "If global warmin' were a person I'd lock them in this room with you for all eternity," Gilbert muttered, "It's about the worst punishment I can think of at the moment."

"It's always this hot during August," Ludwig said listlessly, shoving the bedclothes even further away. "You just have selective memory issues. When winter comes around, you always say that if global warming were a person you would lure it to stay with promises of hot chocolate and Christmas presents."

"I am a foolish, foolish child durin' the winter months." Gilbert sounded like he was on the verge of a heat-induced breakdown. "Such a magical time of the year. I swear to God next winter I am goin' to strip buck ass naked and sleep in a snow bank."

"Wonderful. I'll make sure to have Finland dig out your frozen corpse," Ludwig muttered, sitting up and punching his pillow again with a shred of hope that this would somehow make it less sweaty and unpleasant to the touch.

Gilbert lashed out to kick him in the ribs. "Stop movin' around like that!" he snapped. "You're makin' me get vicariously closer to heat exhaustion every time you do."

Ludwig scowled. "I need to get to sleep, Gilbert! I know the concept of responsibility has sort of fallen by the wayside for you, but most of us have a damn job to do!"

There was silence from the other side of the bed, and Ludwig immediately regretted his words. He sighed, his irritation draining away in a moment. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm just tired and stressed and I haven't slept in what feels like eons."

"You think I have?" Gilbert's voice was clipped and murderous. "Kinda bound to the same sleep schedule, you know..."

Ludwig blinked. "What?"

Gilbert groaned and did all but slap his palm to his forehead. "You have to be the thickest person I know. Why the fuck d'you think I always magically 'wake up' in the middle of the night whenever you do?"

"I… I always assumed it was coincidental," Ludwig said, propping himself up on one elbow to look at his brother.

Gilbert snorted. "You call thirteen times in a row coincidence? Guess statistics isn't your forte, huh."

Ludwig sat all the way up, frowning slightly. "I… never realized," he admitted slowly, "I'm just so used to you being there all the time that I guess I just…didn't…" He trailed off, and Gilbert sat up as well, fixing him with a rather tired stare.

"Used to be the opposite," he said grudgingly, red eyes narrowed. "Might have been intentional then, though. Kind of a big brother slash bodyguard sort of thing, I suppose."

Gilbert stopped speaking, and after a moment Ludwig said cautiously, "And now?"

The pale man sighed irritably. "And now… I can't. Even when I want to." He rubbed one hand across his face, as he droned, "Guess it's your fault goddamn Starbucks gets so much business from me, even though I hate those motherfuckin' corporate assholes on principle alone."

Ludwig smiled wearily. "At least you haven't given in completely. I remember how much trouble you got into from shoving that barista's head into the cash register. Something about how he refused to process your order when you wouldn't say vente instead of large and you said, 'I'll vente you', which made no sense at all, but then his face was in a keyboard before he had a chance to point out your flimsy dialogue."

Gilbert laughed. "Oh yeah. Good times. Kid had an imprint on his forehead for a fuckin' week."

"You're lucky he didn't press charges," Ludwig said gravely.

"Did you forget already, West?" Gilbert smirked. "My animal magnetism does more than just seduce appliances and make flexible Turkish babes go into lust induced frenzies."

Ludwig paused, tilting his head to the side as he said slowly, "Did you… did you just imply that you commit acts of prostitution for coffee and coffee related mishaps?"

Gilbert chuckled evilly. "Stranger things have happened, little brother. Most of which are illegal in the majority of the EU."

"…I don't think I want to be related to you anymore," Ludwig said with an air of finality. "Do you know if there are some papers I can sign to make this dream a reality? Or maybe a place that sells Uzis at three …" he glanced at the clock, "twenty-five in the morning?"

"Only a few. And I can't seriously recommend any of them without a mild feelin' of trepidation," Gilbert said, grinning mysteriously. "Considerin' the hour, you'd probably get a crap shit deal."

Ludwig just rolled his eyes and flopped onto his back, letting out a loud, frustrated groan. "God in heaven. Please exact your merciful judgment on this man lying beside me-"

"Isn't there some bible verse about that?" Gilbert wondered aloud, "Probably renders this deal you're about to make null and void. Shame, really."

"-and make sure he gets a nice seat on the bus to hell by means of compensation," Ludwig finished, and glared at his brother. "Striking him mute for just a few hours wouldn't go amiss either."

"What, no sign of the cross?" Gilbert jeered. "Thought you Catholics suffered an epileptic fit every time you forgot to do one of those little hand-jive things."

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm not the one who got suckered in by _Calvinism_ of all things, so you can just sit there and be quiet or I can magically take away your free will."

Gilbert glared. "But-"

"Free will," Ludwig warned, letting his eyes slip shut. "Slipping away. Magically."

He heard his brother sigh as the pale man said tersely, "Knew that cultist idiot was trouble the moment the Dutch latched on to him like fuckin' leeches…"

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the steady clacking of the fan spinning so fast Ludwig was convinced any moment it was going to spring forth from the ceiling and decapitate them both. Maybe that way he'd actually get some rest. Next to him, Gilbert shifted restlessly, turning over on his side to stare at him with shadowed red eyes.

"Hey, West. You asleep?"

"If I say yes do you promise to leave me alone?"

"No."

"What if I say I will buy you something expensive if you just stop talking for half an hour."

He heard Gilbert give a derisive snort. "Your idea of 'something expensive' is openin' me a new savings account at the fuckin' bank."

"I put about three thousand Euro into a Swiss account!" Ludwig protested, "And with compounded interest, that's the gift that keeps on giving."

"And another time you donated a monetary gift to some god forsaken charity. In my name, no less." Gilbert sounded sick at the thought.

"It was a bird sanctuary," Ludwig mumbled in a rather hurt tone of voice. "I thought you would appreciate the gesture."

Gilbert huffed. "The only gesture I appreciate is either stacks of five hundred denomination bills at least seven centimeters thick, or somethin' shiny that ends with the letters MW."

"And a touching gesture to you means…?"

"About as much as a kick to the face," Gilbert said with the air of a pitiable child. "Because that's pretty much what you're doin' to me. Straight to the face. With boots and everythin'."

Ludwig sighed fondly. "Sounds rather appealing right about now…"

"Ouch. Brutal, West. Wonder where you get that sadistic streak from."

Ludwig glanced to the side at his brother's grinning face. "Oh, I've got a few ideas…"

Gilbert held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa. You can't be blamin' me for that. I didn't give birth to you." He paused, then grimaced. "Although now the ick factor involved in that particular scenario is seriously makin' me rethink this whole sleepin' situation we've got goin' on here."

"Yes. Please stop," Ludwig said painfully, clutching at his temples. "I really don't need this sort of mental trauma at three… forty in the morning."

"Hey, you started it," Gilbert protested. "Givin' me that suggestive look."

"Please. I never look…suggestive." Ludwig blanched at the thought

Gilbert gave a throaty chuckle and propped himself up on one elbow. "You sure about that, West? Because I can think of a few times when you've looked not only suggestive but downright fuckable just 'cause of your expression alone and-"

Ludwig flushed slightly and grabbed a pillow, hitting Gilbert square in the face with it just to shut the other man up. Gilbert squawked in a rather undignified manner and pushed the thing aside before grabbing his own and shoving it into Ludwig's face, laughing uproariously as the blonde struggled to free himself from underneath the cloying pillow. Ludwig finally managed to maneuver himself enough to knee Gilbert in the back of the head. The older man let out a string of curses, but thankfully relinquished his hold on the pillow, allowing Ludwig to scramble free. The blonde was laughing despite himself at the sight of Gilbert's indignant expression, and moved to tower over the shorter man, pinning him to the bed with one deft hand against his thin chest.

Gilbert looked up at him with amused red eyes as he muttered under his breath, "See? The essence of fuckable. Wish to God I had a camera."

Ludwig faltered, and moved to the side and away from his brother, his expression slightly troubled as he muttered, "Shut up, Gilbert."

"Make me, West."

"I mean it!" Ludwig snapped, all traces of humor suddenly gone. "I hate you when you get like this. It's one thing to just joke around with every Turkish floozy that happens to walk by in one of those… those skirt things. But you know that kind of stuff makes me want to jam your thick head in a microwave and go to town and yet you still keep on saying it."

"I say it because I mean it," Gilbert drawled, shrugging one elegant shoulder. "Don't see why you have to get so bent out of shape about-"

"Because you _don't_ mean it, Gilbert. And even if you did it's a matter of principle," Ludwig interrupted, angrily grabbing his pillow and throwing it onto the bed. "Just like you with your damn coffee names. Some stuff I just don't like to hear said. That's all."

Gilbert's eyes narrowed. "I'm not goin' to censor myself around you, West. You know I'm not entirely capable of that. Like you said, it's a matter of principle."

Ludwig opened his mouth to respond but then thought better of it. He took a deep calming breath and let it out slowly. "…Let's just… go to sleep, okay?"

"Kinda thought that was the problem," Gilbert said with an edge of anger in his voice. "Silly me. Must've been resolved when I wasn't lookin' and this is all just some bitchy dream I can wake up from in an instant. Oh goody."

"Instead of just sitting there complaining you could come up with some solutions," Ludwig said shortly. "The only ones coming to mind involve you, a few buckets of cement, and the nearest body of water."

Gilbert actually grinned a bit at that. "Been takin' tips from Romano?"

"…Hardly," Ludwig muttered, but he relaxed slightly, and let himself fall back on the pillows again. He sighed heavily, and Gilbert settled down as well, edging a bit further towards his own side of the bed.

A few crickets chirped outside the window, and Gilbert said slowly, "I might… have one idea."

"Does it involve illegal drugs?" Ludwig asked warily.

"…Nooo…"

Ludwig sighed. "Try again."

"Fine, fine." Gilbert sounded irritated, and his voice was mired in self-loathing as he continued. "I didn't want it to come to this, but… there is one other thing I can think of that might work."

"At this point I'll try anything," Ludwig groaned, adding hastily when he saw the hopeful look on Gilbert's face, "Except the drugs. The point is I need to be _awake and coherent_ for the meeting tomorrow. Not blazed out of my mind or falling asleep from some overly vigorous cocktail of nighttime cough medicines."

Gilbert frowned up at the ceiling and gave a sigh of resignation. "Well, I figure… you fall asleep, I fall asleep, right? Two birds with one stone."

"…Sure."

Gilbert rolled on his side to face his brother. "Well, when you were just a kid, you used to have trouble sleepin'. You still got nightmares from God only knows what and it was fuckin' impossible to calm your ass down. And keep in mind we didn't have Nyquil back then or anythin'. Just good old fashioned booze. But…" Gilbert rolled his eyes. "The Kaiser caught me slippin' you gin and that was the end of that convenient solution."

"But then I remembered that back in oh… 1848 or so I was in Berlin crushin' this flimsy democratic rebellion thing. Don't really remember the details much, but-"

"Does this story have a point other than to attempt to lull me to death from boredom?" Ludwig asked hopelessly. Gilbert just smacked him on the side of the head and continued speaking, glaring at his brother as though daring him to interrupt again.

"Anyway," he said primly, "There were these two brothers who had for some weird reason been writin' down all these stories. After their brave and stupidly ambitious attempt at overthrowin' me was stomped into the ground, I cornered them and demanded a copy of what they were workin' on. They handed it over, of course, and I flipped through it. Thought it was a worthless piece of trash at the time, but after you came around and got all insomnia kid on me, one of the help suggested that I read to you and that book was what came to mind."

Ludwig held up a hand to stop his brother from talking, a funny look blanketing his face. "…You're telling me…" he said slowly, "That you personally threatened the Grimm brothers? One of my houses' cultural treasures?"

Gilbert snapped his fingers. "GRIMM. That was it. Knew they had some sort of bad ass name. Completely unfounded, mind you. They both folded like cheap card tables with just a glare."

Ludwig groaned, and slammed his palm into his forehead to help relieve the migraine he could feel taking up residence. "Just… let's move on."

Gilbert shrugged. "Well anyway, you seemed to like those stories. They put you out like a light. So considerin' your level of maturity has yet to increase any-"

Ludwig snorted at that and muttered something about the pot calling the kettle black, but Gilbert ignored him and continued, "I figure it's worth a shot."

Ludwig just stared up at the ceiling before saying helplessly, "So your solution… is to read me a bedtime story?"

"Hey. Worked a couple hundred years ago." Gilbert grinned. "Thought those Grimm-Douche's stuff was supposed to stand the test of time or somethin'."

Ludwig glanced at the clock. Three fifty three. He closed his eyes. "At this point… I'll try anything."

"Great." Gilbert was starting to sound almost enthusiastic about the idea, and Ludwig had a sudden vivid flashback to what usually happened when his brother got excited about ideas. World War One came to mind. Ludwig started praying again. Leviticus be damned.

Gilbert was muttering absently to himself, and Ludwig just caught the barest snatches of words. "_Frog Prince_… too amphibious. _Sleeping Beauty_… appropriate title but gay as fuck…."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow. "You have all of them memorized?"

"Nah. Just the most popular and or gory ones," Gilbert said offhandedly. "Easy to impress chicks. Or to hypnotize little kids and steal their ice cream."

"I really don't think you should be talking about seducing children," Ludwig said warily. "It probably wouldn't do much for our public image."

"Not seducin' you half wit. Hypnotizin'," Gilbert said idly.

Ludwig rolled his eyes. "A subtle difference I'm sure the jury will have fun debating."

"Shut it, West. I'm tryin' to… hm…" Gilbert paused, lacing his fingers across his bare chest. He nodded. "Okay. Got it. _The Dog and the Sparrow_."

Ludwig coughed. "One of the ones that missed the Disney cut, no doubt."

"Can it. This one is gold. Much better than that watered down crap," Gilbert insisted, sliding over so that his shoulder was pressed against Ludwig's. "Now behave. It's story time."

Ludwig opened his mouth, feeling the need to comment on the absurdity of the situation, when a glare from Gilbert silenced him. His brother grinned. "Good. So. _The Dog and the Sparrow_. Once there was-"

"You're not going to say 'once upon a time'?" Ludwig asked sardonically. Gilbert thudded an elbow into the younger man's ribcage. "Once upon a time," he started again, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "There was this dog and its owners were really shitty to it. But then the dog got this sparrow friend and she stole lots of food for it. Then the dog got sleepy and decided to take a nap. Why he chose to sleep in the middle of the fuckin' road I have no idea. Chalk it up to a convenient plot device. But anyway, this guy on a cart comes along and the bird warns him to stop. But the douchebag ignores her and keeps goin' and so he runs over the dog and kills it."

Ludwig grimaced. "Lovely choice. Why don't you tell one about murdering baby chicks next."

"Shut up. It's gonna get good here in a bit. Anyway, so the sparrow gets really pissed and says, 'Bitch you killed my dog friend now you're gonna pay out the ass'-"

"Old German really sounds different when you recite it, Gil. Can't imagine why."

"-but the asshole just says, 'Lady, please. Stop PMSing over here' and he keeps goin'. So the sparrow pops the top on a bunch of kegs of this shithead's wine. And the merchant complains about the fact that he's got no more wine and is all like, 'Oh how sorry I am.' And the sparrow says, 'Not as sorry as you're gonna be, bitch.' So then she pecks out his horse's eyes and the guy tries to swing a fuckin' axe at her but misses and kills the horse instead. And then he does the same thing to his _other_ horse so now he's got no wine and no horses and one seriously pissed off sparrow."

Ludwig felt an urge to go back in time and apologize to the Grimm brothers personally. But he remained silent as Gilbert prattled on, shifting slightly closer to his brother to hear him better.

Gilbert took a deep breath before continuing. "So. After loosin' all his booze and ponies, the guy goes home to his wife and starts complainin' about this bird. And the wife says, 'Fuck you stupid husband that bird already came here and brought its entire bird posse and ate all our goddamn corn.' The guy whines some more about what a sorry wretch he is or whatever, and then the sparrow shows up again, this time shouting, 'You're gonna die bitch! Gonna fuckin' die!' and the husband and wife get ticked and keep tryin' to kill the thing with, surprise, surprise, an axe. Because that worked so fuckin' well the first time."

"After about forty minutes or so of swingin' axes and breakin' shit, the couple finally caches the bird and the wife says, 'Should I just bust a cap in that sparrow's ass now or what?' like they hadn't been tryin' to fuckin' do that for the past hour and a half. But the husband just growls and says, 'No. She has to die slowly.' And then he probably cackled evilly at this point or somethin' but I'm takin' a bit of an artistic license here since those dumbass brothers didn't write anythin' about that."

Ludwig coughed. "Gilbert, what you're doing wouldn't be called an 'artistic license' so much as 'outright travesty'. If you need me to write an essay later explaining the difference I'd be glad to."

"Hilarious. D'you want me to finish the story or not."

"My conscious tells me no. But my never ending quest for closure says yes. How torn I am," Ludwig deadpanned.

"Then keep the smart ass remarks to yourself." Gilbert paused, and coughed to clear his throat. "Now where was I… Ah. Right. So the guy threatens to kill the bird in a way that would make the Geneva Convention cringe and his wife is all in favor of the idea. The guy says he's gonna eat the sparrow – probably alive because otherwise you might as well just kill it because hell knows it's not gonna be able to tell if its own mangled carcass is bein' devoured or not. But I dunno how he was plannin' on eatin' the thing alive without it killin' him as well. Semantics. Movin' on."

"So the guy puts the bird in his mouth, but it struggles and manages to get out of there and so the asshole yells at his wife to just kill the thing. She obliges, but shock and horror and predictability misses and cleaves her husband in twain. The bird flips the wife the finger and probably pecks her eyes out for good measure before flyin' home to her nest where she lives happily ever after. The end."

Gilbert let out a deep breath and turned on his side, pillowing his head on Ludwig's shoulder. He frowned. "…You're not asleep."

The corners of Ludwig's mouth twitched. "Brilliant observation, Holmes. Any other mind splitting insights you'd like to share?"

"Maybe I didn't tell it right," Gilbert mused. "Was the American accent too much? I was goin' for a hip young thing to try and resonate with today's youth."

"Yesterday you threatened to set all the schools on fire to get rid of all of today's youth after one tried to throw a rock at your head. Do try and keep up with yourself."

Gilbert ignored his brother. "I thought it would work..." he said in a rather bored tone of voice. Ludwig could feel Gilbert's jaw working against his shoulder. It was half comforting, half creepy. "Guess that cough syrup cocktail is startin' to look pretty appealin'..."

Ludwig glanced at the clock. It read four zero two in big shiny numbers. "Actually at this point I'm thinking an all-nighter is probably our best bet. We can take a nap tomorrow."

Gilbert shifted so that half of his body was lying draped over Ludwig's. His voice was slowly loosing power as he droned, "As long as it doesn't interfere with my regularly scheduled naps. I get extra violent if I miss those… And remember you're the one that's gotta do all the paperwork if I punch Estonia's representative or somethin'…"

Ludwig groaned, and shoved weakly at his brother's shoulders. "What the hell are you doing, Gil. It's about two hundred degrees in here. Get off of me."

"Shut up, West…" Gilbert's voice was muddled and sleepy. "This is last resort number three."

Ludwig sighed, but wrapped his free arm around his brother's shoulder, grimacing at how sticky with sweat the pale skin was. "Suffocating me to death is option three? With you I would've expected it to be number two, at least. And how can there be three last resorts? Last sort of implies no other. You can't really have last one and last two. Then that's second to last."

"Stop... talkin' so much. And, well…" Gilbert was barely comprehensible as he sighed against Ludwig's chest. "Kind of gotten used to havin' you around. Be a shame to off you without at least tryin' a few other things first…"

Ludwig just hummed in appreciation, but then paused. He ran his fingers slowly up Gilbert's spine, feeling the older man's body shift a bit from the slow, steady breaths. He swallowed. "Gilbert… I-… Sorry."

"F' what," the older man muttered sleepily. "Bein' a lil' bitch?"

Ludwig chuckled and closed his eyes, feeling his own breathing synch with his brother's without a moment's pause. "Something like that, I guess."

Gilbert shifted slightly, his lips murmuring against Ludwig's throat. "An' 'm sorry… F' treatin' you…like you're not… like you're not special. T' me. Or whatever the fuck I did wrong this week…"

Ludwig smiled, feeling himself drift off to sleep as well, the cloying heat no longer a bother. "Forgot how complacent you get when you're tired… I should take advantage of this more often."

"Quit while you're ahead, West…" Gilbert warned, the threat lacking its usual punch.

"Alright…" Ludwig listened to the sound of their breathing, the crickets outside, the gray glow of predawn light filtering its way through the shutters in little fingers of white.

He let his head rest against his brother's.

"Goodnight, Gilbert."

"G'night, West. See you in th' mornin'…"

Ludwig drifted off to the sound of the awakening morning sparrows, and he smiled tiredly to himself.

To hell with being late.

The world could wait.


End file.
